Forgiveness
by Ruby-Jo Grapefruit
Summary: AU. Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord... but died at his hand. Too grief-stricken to return to the wizarding world, Hermione Granger has lived the past three years as a Muggle. However, her life is thrown off-balance when an unexpected visitor arrives.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I have been out of the fanfic world for a while, but am now back! I have started a new story, as well as updating my novel-length, **_**Mysterious Ways.**_** Hope you enjoy. Oh, and none of this is mine, it is J K Rowling's.**

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_Plink._

Such a tiny little sound, one would barely even notice it. Hermione Granger did, though. It was the little sounds, normal, everyday sounds, sounds that she never even would have given a second thought to in the past – those were the ones that were now devastatingly loud to her, almost technicolour in their noise. The small noises – the chirping of a bird, creaking of a floorboard – the sounds she heard when she was alone in her flat – were the only sounds that seemed real to her in her otherwise silent world.

Of course, she was always alone now. She had Ginny, of course, but Ginny was part of the world that Hermione had left behind. And as for her parents… Hermione thought that returning to the Muggle world, she would become closer to her parents. However, they had only drifted further apart. Maybe because they didn't understand… _couldn't _understand what she'd been through.

Hermione jumped out of her skin at the _plink_, spilling the cup of tea she held in her lap. Hermione cursed as the tea splashed all over the floor, all over the chair, and all over the faded jeans she was wearing.

Good job that she had been sitting, staring into space for so long that the tea had gone cold.

That was all she seemed to do these days, Hermione mused as she fetched a cloth to mop up the tea and rolled her eyes as she realised the _plink _sound had been nothing more than the dripping of the tap. Why did it have to be so _loud_? Getting on her knees, Hermione began to methodically rub at the carpet, letting the tea soak into the cloth.

Yes, that was all she did – sat and stared into space, or sat and stared mindlessly at the TV. She barely even went out any more, except to work at the bookstore or to do her shopping. Ginny often begged her to come out, Hermione couldn't bear to be around anything or anyone who reminded her of him, not after that terrible day…

Scrubbing at the stains to no avail, Hermione sighed and gave up. She would have to bleach the carpet. A little voice in the back of her head said, _those stains would be gone in a second if you just used magic…_

Hermione shook away the niggling voice and looked around her poky little flat. Not somewhere she would have pictured herself living in the past, but it was all she could afford on her wages. The voice continued inside her head. _It didn't have to be this way. You didn't have to be earning minimum wage working in that little bookshop. You could have been anything, you could have trained to be an Auror or a Healer, if you'd stayed in the wizarding world…_

"No," Hermione said aloud, startling herself. It was magic that had caused this whole mess. The war between the wizarding world. Her wand, unused for so long, was locked away in a cabinet in her bedroom.

Three years. That's how long it had been since that fateful day, the day everyone knew would come eventually. Three years since Voldemort had been defeated and the wizarding world could finally live in peace. Three years since Hermione had turned her back on magic and chosen to live the rest of her life as a Muggle. Three years since her best friend and her one true love had _died_… no, been _murdered._

Her head was spinning, and for a moment she thought she was going to faint, or vomit, or both. Clutching the side of the chair, Hermione swayed back and forth on her knees, trying to keep her breathing slow and even.

The phone suddenly began to ring, making her jump out of her skin again. The shrill, harsh sound was unwelcome in the silent flat. Wanting to make it stop, Hermione got unsteadily to her feet and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" Her voice was flat, emotionless. Hermione didn't even recognise it as her own voice.

"Hermione? It's me."

Ginny. Of course. She called practically every day, wanting to know how Hermione was doing, how she was feeling, what she had been up to. Hermione appreciated Ginny's concern, but more than anything she just wanted to be left alone. Ginny was what was tying her to the wizarding world, the world she just wanted to forget about.

"Hi, Ginny."

Ginny sounded concerned. "Are you OK? You sound… strange."

"I'm fine," Hermione replied automatically. Repeating those two little words had become routine for her – almost daily, the same question was asked: "Hermione, are you OK?" "I'm fine." Always the same response. Even though she wasn't fine. How could she be, when her heart had been ripped out of her body and never returned?

"OK…" Hermione could practically hear Ginny biting her lip.

"Did you want something?" Hermione asked flatly.

"Yeah, actually… Mum was just wondering if you wanted to come over for lunch on Sunday. You know, with us at the Burrow," Ginny said quickly. "She's – well, we've all been a bit worried about you, and we thought you might like to…" her voice trailed off. "I mean, maybe you could use the company."

"Thanks for the invite, Ginny, but I really don't think I'm up to it," Hermione sighed.

"Oh, Hermione, please come," Ginny said, her tone pleading. "It would be good for you – you barely ever leave that flat. You're just wallowing in depression, you need to get out, spend time with people who care about you…"

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Ginny, I do appreciate it," she said slowly, when Ginny had finished speaking. "But I just… I can't be in that house, not after… I mean, it reminds me too much of…"

Hermione left the sentence hanging in the air, but both she and Ginny knew what she had been about to say. _"Reminds me too much of Ron."_

"Hermione," Ginny said gently. "I understand how much you miss him. We all miss him. Things aren't the same without him…" Here her voice broke, and Hermione heard her stifle a sob. She closed her eyes again as her own tears trickled down her cheeks.

"But it was three years ago," Ginny continued, composing herself. "You have to go on living… you have to move on."

Hermione felt fury mounting inside her. "You don't understand!" she shouted before she could stop herself.

Ginny's voice turned cold, and Hermione knew she was angry. "Don't understand?" she repeated in a quavering voice. "Dammit, Hermione, he was my _brother_! How the hell can you say I don't understand?"

"And how the hell can you said I should just move on?" Hermione retorted, more tears springing to her eyes. "I loved him, Ginny… and Harry…"

"So did I," Ginny said quietly. "But they wouldn't want us sitting around moping, Hermione… they would want us to carry on with our lives…"

Hermione couldn't bear to hear any more, couldn't bear to listen to Ginny's sympathetic voice. Slamming the phone down, she returned to the kitchen and splashed cold water on her face.

She waited. Ginny didn't call back.

No matter what she said, Ginny _didn't_ understand. Ginny had always been full of life, able to bounce back from any situation. Ginny had people around her who understood – the rest of her family. Hermione had just retreated further and further inside herself, a mere shell of the girl she had once been.

"How can I just keep on living?" Hermione whispered to herself. "How can I?" The two people who mattered most to her in the world were _dead_.

"It should have been me," Hermione muttered. The realisation struck her like a ton of bricks. With shaking fingers, she got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Trying to calm her nerves, she sipped the water, wincing as the glass clinked against her teeth.

A knock on the door. Hermione spun around, shocked. She never received visitors. Maybe it was Ginny, come to plead with her some more.

Still holding the glass, Hermione hurried through the kitchen and the lounge to the front door. Trying to regain her composure, she threw her shoulders back and yanked open the door.

She couldn't _believe_ who was on the other side.

The glass slid from her hand and dropped to the floor, shattering. Hermione barely noticed, even when tiny shards of glass pierced her bare feet, leaving tiny cuts. She took a step closer, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Maybe she was going mad. He couldn't be here – couldn't have the nerve to come here!

She blinked furiously, trying to get rid of him. But he didn't vanish. He was real. Looking much the same as he had the last time she had seen him, three years ago when he was sent to Azkaban for the murder of Ron Weasley, the boy she had loved. Only there was something different… before, he had always looked at her with malice, glared at her as if she were lower than the dirt on his shoe.

But now, standing here today, he had a look of sheer desperation on his face.

Draco Malfoy was standing on her doorstep.

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**Hope you liked! Next chapter will be up shortly. Feedback greatly appreciated, but if it's criticism, please make it constructive! If you enjoyed, check out my other fics.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am SO sorry that I only wrote one chapter of this story and then abandoned it! I had lots of positive feedback from the first chapter and I feel so bad for making you guys wait so long for the second one, but here it is. Please forgive me? I will be working on this story properly now, along with a few others.**

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Hermione stared, unable to believe what she was seeing. Draco Malfoy... on her doorstep... coming to her _flat_... Hermione felt almost violated. And what was he doing here... he was supposed to be in Azkaban, locked away forever for murder...

Her astonishment turned to anger, and she instinctively reached for her wand... only to remember, a moment later, that it was hidden away. She could never get to it in time - he would attack her, silence her so nobody would hear her screaming, _kill her like he had killed Ron, the boy she had never revealed her true feelings for and now it was too late_...

All because of the person now standing in front of her.

Shaking with fury, Hermione took a step back, intending to slam the door on him. She _never _wanted to see his face again; she wanted to curse him into a million tiny pieces, but now she would settle for alerting the Ministry of Magic to his presence here... he must have escaped somehow, she didn't know how he could have, but he had done it, hadn't he, he was here...

She staggered backwards as the full force of what was happening hit her. A flashback from that terrible night flooded her brain...

_Hermione was terrified. She was trying not to show it, of course, trying to keep the Gryffindor bravery intact, but deep down inside her, she was petrified. So many people had died already; the final battle was raging around her, and she herself was having a fierce duel with Fenrir Greyback._

_He had been after Ginny; he had taken a perverted kind of shine to her since they had met that one time. Hermione knew what Greyback was like - he wanted to cause pain, and suffering, and slow deaths. She wasn't going to let him do that to Ginny._

_Ginny had been oblivious, in a furious duel with one of the Death Eaters whose name Hermione couldn't recall. Greyback had tried to sneak up behind her. He was in his human form, but that made him no less terrifying. His teeth were gleaming as he licked his lips, and the expression on his face disgusted Hermione. She had seen what was happening and blasted Greyback off his feet with her wand. Snarling, he had turned and come for her, and now Hermione was fighting for her life, while all around her good people were doing the same, being killed for the greater good, and maybe she would be next, but she had to keep fighting, they had to keep the hope alive..._

"Hermione?"

He had spoken; and Hermione blinked, pulled from her reverie. He had used her first name, as opposed to "Granger" or, even worse, "Mudblood".

_What does it matter what he's calling you? _a voice in her head screamed. _He's still a twisted, evil person, no matter what!_

"Get out of here," Hermione said, her voice a lot calmer than she felt.

Malfoy's face was paler than usual, and Hermione could see he was visibly shaking. "Hermione, please..."

"No," Hermione said at once. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say, Draco Malfoy. I don't know how you got here, but you're a filthy, evil, twisted excuse for a human being and I want you to get off my doorstep now before I kill you myself!"

Her voice had risen to a shriek, and Malfoy flinched. Hermione turned to slam the door, planning to write a letter to the Ministry straight away, but Malfoy spoke before she could shut the door.

"They released me."

Hermione turned around, slowly, shock and horror etched into every inch of her face. "You're a liar."

"I'm not," Malfoy begged. "Please, listen to me... they let me out, yesterday, the first thing I did was come and find you..."

"Stop lying!" Hermione shrieked, taking a step forwards to shout in Malfoy's face. "How _dare _you come here, Malfoy? How dare you speak to me, how can you look me in the eye after what you did?"

Malfoy bowed his head to look at the floor. Rage was bubbling up inside Hermione; she had a strong urge to hit him, just like she had done in their third year at Hogwarts after he had insulted Hagrid. But this... this was different... Malfoy had murdered one of her best friends, and nothing she could do would satisfy the urge she had to make him suffer for what he had done... nothing, except maybe seeing him get the Dementor's Kiss after they realised he had escaped.

"I'm going to the Ministry," Hermione said shakily, reaching for her jacket hanging next to the door. She didn't have her wand, so she couldn't stun Malfoy or tie him up, unless she used physical force... but there was no way her strength would match Malfoy's. Did he have his wand on him? Maybe he hadn't, they must have confiscated it when he was sent to Azkaban, that was probably why he hadn't attacked her yet...

Malfoy held up his hands. "I promise you, they let me go."

"THEY COULDN'T HAVE!" Hermione bellowed. "YOU'RE A MURDERER!"

Malfoy blanched at these words. "I know what you think of me," he muttered, unable to look her in the eyes. "I don't blame you... I would feel the same, if I was in your position."

"Damn right you would," Hermione snapped. "You make me sick."

Malfoy reached into his pocket, and Hermione flinched as he pulled out his wand.

What was he going to do to her?

To her shock, he held the wand out. "We need to talk," he said. "You can take my wand. I promise, I won't do anything to hurt you."

Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to talk to him. "What about?" she asked suspiciously. Was this some sort of clever plan, did he have Death Eaters waiting to ambush her as soon as she let him into the flat?

_There are no Death Eaters any more, _she reminded herself. _Voldemort is dead, and the Death Eaters are locked away forever. You're safe._

But she didn't feel it. She felt vulnerable, standing there with a killer on her doorstep, a killer who was now saying he wanted to talk to her and offering up his wand.

There was only one thing to do. She reached out and took it. Malfoy's face registered relief for a second, which changed at once when Hermione shouted, "Incarcerous!" Thin ropes flew out of the end of her wand and wrapped themselves around Malfoy's wrists and ankles, tying his hands and feet together.

It had been so long since Hermione had done magic that she thought she would have forgotten how to do it. To her surprise her spells were as strong as ever, and although Malfoy's wand felt strange in her hand, it felt good to be holding one again. She wished it were her own. Maybe she should get her own wand out and try a few little spells...

_No, _she told herself. _You gave up that life, remember? There's no going back to it now._

"Hermione -" Malfoy began.

"I don't trust you, Malfoy," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "You're a liar and a murderer and I am notifying the Ministry right now about you escaping." Ignoring his protests, she flicked his wand to levitate him into the air and into her flat, where she deposited him on the sofa and left him while she went to fetch a pen and paper.

She didn't have her own owl, of course, but maybe Ginny would lend her Pig?

Crossing the room, Hermione picked up the telephone and hesitated before dialling the number. She noticed Malfoy looking at the telephone with faint curiosity and a hint of disgust, and turned away from him. _Evil bastard._

"Hello?" Ginny answered, as Hermione knew she would. They had only got a telephone at the Burrow so that Ginny could ring Hermione; none of the other Weasleys used it.

"Ginny, I need a big favour," Hermione said. "Can I please borrow Pig to send a letter?"

Ginny sounded puzzled. "What for?"

"It doesn't matter, but it's an emergency," Hermione stressed. "Please, please?"

"Will you come for lunch on Sunday then?" Ginny asked hopefully.

Hermione bit her lip. "OK, OK, if I can borrow the owl?"

"Sure," Ginny said happily. "I'll send him over now."

Hermione put down the phone and turned back to Malfoy. He was staring at her, and his grey eyes were glittering, not with malice, as Hermione had expected, but of something entirely different... remorse?

_Don't be stupid, _she told herself sternly. _He's got no remorse at all. He hates you, and he hated Harry, and Ron..._

"I was telling the truth, you know," Malfoy said quietly. "They let me out of Azkaban."

"Shut up," Hermione snapped. "I don't want to hear it, Malfoy. I just want you back where you belong, behind bars." She got up and swept from the room, into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on, she felt her eyes burning with tears and blinked them away furiously. All there was to do now was wait for the kettle to boil, Pig to appear, and then Malfoy would be gone from her life forever.

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**A/N: Next chapter... Hermione and Malfoy have a talk.**


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